


taking me in full bloom

by blackkat



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Developing Relationship, Humor, M/M, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23480254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: In the uncertainty after the war's end, Fox gets a new job. And, potentially, quite a lot more.
Relationships: CC-1010 | Fox/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 48
Kudos: 1183
Collections: Clones Adore Obiwan





	taking me in full bloom

“General!” Fox says, shoving to his feet as his door opens. It’s something a little like relief, after so many weeks of dealing with civilians and senators, to actually see a Jedi in his office.

Obi-Wan pauses, clearly startled, and gives Fox an appraising look. He’s travel-worn, and Fox can tell he hasn’t trimmed his beard in a little too long. “I have to say, that’s the happiest someone has sounded to see me in months,” he says dryly, but he’s smiling a little as he comes in. “Commander, you're looking well.”

“About as well as you, I assume,” Fox says, equally dry, because he knows his own state well enough. It’s been a solid four days since he did more in the barracks than crash into his bed, and it probably shows.

Obi-Wan snorts, handing over a datapad and then taking the chair across the desk. _Sprawling_ in it, really, and Fox has never had cause to feel jealous of a chair before, but given the way Obi-Wan settles in and drags his fingers over the fabric and props an elbow on the arm, he just might have to start.

“Peace was supposed to be easier than outright war,” Obi-Wan says, rueful, “but at least in wartime no one had a problem with me punching the Trade Federation ambassador in the face.”

“Some people had problems with it, I'm pretty sure,” Fox says dryly. “You got death threats over it, at least.”

Obi-Wan waves a casual hand, like that’s just another Centaxday. For him, it probably is. “Well, not _directly_ , and that’s what tends to concern me.”

Fox doesn’t mention that his office was the one that got all of them, because the Jedi's mail ended up routed through the Coruscant Guard’s office some time after the third attempt at a mail bomb. He handled the High Council’s mail personally, and some of the threats against Obi-Wan were…excessively violent and imaginative.

“They’ve tapered off, now,” Fox says carefully, because telling a High General _I wish you’d be more careful so that I can sleep better at night_ is probably inappropriate.

The curl of Obi-Wan’s smile is caught between tired and mischievous. “I'm sure I’ll fix that soon, Commander, don’t worry.” When Fox grimaces, he laughs, and the sweep of his eyes over Fox is quick but assessing. “And you, Fox? I heard the Coruscant Guard was in talks with the civilian police force. I must admit, I’d thought you would stick with guarding the Senate.”

Fox hesitates, but—Obi-Wan’s always seemed perfectly willing to do whatever he can for the clones. “The Senate Guard was feeling territorial. And besides. If I have to hear one more senator call me and my men commodities, or listen to them argue about how much food we should be getting, _I_ might be tempted to kidnap a few senators,” he says truthfully, and Obi-Wan grimaces deeply.

“Kriff,” he mutters, and rubs a hand over his beard. “Yes, I can't imagine that’s anything close to pleasant.” Pausing, he looks Fox over again, and then asks, “Do you _want_ to work with the police, Commander?”

It takes Fox a moment to find a response. “We wouldn’t all be,” he says at length. “Thorn and Thire and some of their men are joining the Diplomatic Corps, as guards. Stone wants to be a quadrant peacekeeper, and I'm sure some of the Guard will follow him. Some of the others do want the police force jobs, I know.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes are the color of oceans Fox has seen holos of, but never visited, and he’s watching Fox without wavering, without looking away. “Yes,” he says, “but what about _you_ , Fox? What is it that you want?”

Fox takes a breath. Doesn’t say _my last charge turned out to be a Sith Lord intent on ruling the galaxy_ , but—neither of them has forgotten. Getting his chip activated and being ordered to kill Obi-Wan and Master Fisto wasn’t exactly a highlight of Fox’s year.

“I don’t know, sir,” he says finally, truthfully. Going from top commander of the Guard to a low-ranking police officer rankles faintly, though he knows some of his brothers are looking forward to the lessening of responsibilities. He’d be bored to tears as a diplomat’s guard, though, and he likes structure too much to become a peacekeeper minding the shipping lanes. Technically he could retire, take his backpay now that the Senate’s finally coughed it up, and retire to a quiet world somewhere, like so many other brothers are doing, but—

That would bore him to tears, too. He can't imagine surviving more than a few weeks like that.

“Well,” Obi-Wan says, and rises to his feet, unfolding from his sprawl in the chair with the sort of grace that always make Fox want to swallow his tongue. He smiles at Fox, holding out a hand, and says, “I think I may have a proposition that interests you, Commander, if you’d care to hear it.”

Fox swallows, hopes Obi-Wan doesn’t notice. Setting his hand in Obi-Wan’s, he lets Obi-Wan pull him to his feet, and asks, “Proposition?”

Obi-Wan’s smile is far more charming than it has any right to be, especially when it’s aimed right at Fox. “Do you have some time right now, Commander?”

Still not a straight answer, but—he’s a Jedi. Fox probably should have expected that. With a snort, he says, “Nothing that can't wait for overtime,” and reaches for his bucket. Then he stops, hesitating, because—technically, with the Guard all but suspended right now, he doesn’t actually _need_ it.

Long fingers close around his wrist again, and Fox glances up to meet Obi-Wan’s smile. “No one will look twice at a man in armor in the Temple,” Obi-Wan promises, and his mouth curves in a hint of a smirk. “Except in admiring ways, I promise.”

Fox’s face feels hot, but he controls himself, doesn’t immediately drag his helmet on to hide the flush. Instead, he hooks it to his belt, then nods to Obi-Wan and asks, “The Temple?”

Obi-Wan hums, checking the clock above Fox’s desk. “I thought we could have lunch,” he says. “And discuss things, potentially.”

Food would be good, Fox thinks ruefully, with his own glance at the clock. He’d forgotten the time, and with Thire occupied elsewhere and not able to ride herd on him, he maybe has a tendency to overlook certain things. “Of course, sir,” he says, and—

The hand around his wrist tightens, just slightly, and Obi-Wan’s thumb brushes the underside. “Just Obi-Wan,” he says firmly, and smiles. “Master Kenobi if you really must, Commander, but—I'm overjoyed not to be a general any longer.”

Fox can understand that. He smiles a little, quiet and crooked, and says, “Fox, then,” offered in return, because everything is uncertain, unsteady right now, including his rank. The Senate is dissolving the GAR, and—well. His own name is about the only thing he’s sure of right now.

There’s sympathy, tired and worn, in the way Obi-Wan watches him, in the slant of his smile. He doesn’t try to say anything, just steps close, and—

It makes Fox think of that one time outside 79’s, when he had time off and the 212th was on leave and dragged their general out with them. Makes him think of Obi-Wan in the street, flushed and ruffled, and the way his mouth tasted when he pushed Fox up against the wall. Not a mistake, in any way—the memory of it carried Fox through a hell of a lot of bad days. But—

Not exactly something he’d thought would ever be repeated, and the potential right now makes his breath catch.

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan says lightly, “afterwards, we can find a private corner in the Temple, and…talk.”

However that talk goes, Fox is pretty sure he’s looking forward to it.

Fox might not have been on the front during any part of the war, a few missions escorting the Supreme Sith Lord Chancellor aside—and karking hells, he’s glad that’s over—but he was the commander of the Guard. He interacted with more Jedi than probably any other clone in the whole kriffing war, just through sheer proximity to the Temple, and he knows _precisely_ what sort of insanity lurks beneath the neat robes and the practiced manners.

Therefore, it’s not any sort of surprise that the first thing he hears when they step into the Temple is a screech, high and furious.

“Oh, _hells_ ,” Obi-Wan says, and grabs Fox’s arm, hauling him towards the lifts at double-time. “Just don’t make eye contact and you should be fine.”

From all his time wrangling senators for a living, Fox could tell him that that never works. It’s amusing that he’s so optimistic, though, so Fox doesn’t look back, even as angry footsteps approach down the hall.

“ _Master_ ,” a voice says, indignant.

Obi-Wan groans almost inaudibly, then squares his shoulders and turns, welcoming smile firmly in place. “Aayla, my dear, you're back already? I thought you still had a few weeks left in the Outer Rim—”

“ _Your_ _padawan_ ,” Aayla says, vexed, “is giving me _relationship advice_.”

Obi-Wan’s smile freezes in a rictus. “I don’t have a padawan,” he says. Fox can't tell if it’s a kneejerk denial or true incomprehension, but—if it’s that second one, he has some questions about how many concussions Obi-Wan got over the course of the war.

From behind Aayla, there’s a snort. “You have two,” Quinlan says, as dry as dust, and approaches to curl a hand around Aayla's shoulder. “Aayla, come on, Anakin's just an idiot.”

“Of course he is,” Aayla says. “I don’t _have_ a relationship.”

Well. Bly is going to be happy to hear that. Unless Anakin's advice was about Aayla and Bly's relationship, in which case he’ll probably turn up at Fox’s door in tears before midnight tonight. Fox grimaces, taking a deliberate step back, and is unsurprised when Obi-Wan matches him.

“That sounds like Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, desperately cheerful. “Always assuming. I don’t think he’s ever had a relationship himself, so how would he even know? Ridiculous, isn't it?”

Fox, who’s caught Anakin coming out of Supreme Chancellor Amidala’s office looking disheveled three times this _week_ , and definitely saw them kissing in the hallway after an assembly, gives Obi-Wan an incredulous look. Quinlan rolls his eyes. Aayla _bristles_.

“The only reason Anakin has a relationship,” she says, and Obi-Wan makes a soft, ineffective sound of protest that she stomps right over, “is because Padmé is a brilliant and talented woman, and _far_ smarter than him.”

Obi-Wan opens his mouth, looking like he wants to protest. There's a moment of silence, and then, deliberately, he shuts it. “Well,” he says. “Yes, but—”

“ _Master_!”

That squawk is familiar, high-pitched, and wholly indignant, and Fox turns to see Anakin looking like Obi-Wan just fired a blaster through his chest, full of horror and betrayal. Rex, behind him, looks nothing less that massively amused. Obi-Wan winces.

“Vos, control your padawan,” he says, with an attempt at dignity. “Commander Fox and I have business.”

Aayla's eyes narrow. Fox has seen her look at droids like that half a second before she rips them apart with her mind. “Master Kenobi, if you cannot at least teach Skywalker to stop _hounding_ me about a relationship that doesn’t exist—”

“You're seeing Kit!” Anakin protests. “You told me that yourself!”

“Two _years_ ago, Anakin, two _years_. Our relationship ended, but we are still friends! And if you slip another magazine under my door with tips for repairing a strained relationship, _our_ friendship will not be so lucky!”

Rex coughs into his fist to hide the fact that he’s pretty much laughing at his former general, and slips around to join Quinlan. “Master Vos,” he says.

“Couldn’t hold him back any longer?” Quinlan asks dryly. “And here I though you were an ARC.”

“If the whole of the 501st couldn’t manage it, I don’t know why you expected _me_ to be able to,” Rex counters, perfectly mild, and nods to Fox. He’s in civvies, hair growing out, an ease to the set of his shoulders that Fox has never seen before, and Fox can't help a faintly crooked smile as he nods back. Apparently Rex, at least, has found a place for himself. That’s good.

“I can't believe you think I would _not_ be in a relationship with Kit if that’s what I wanted!”

“But you were _happy_! You said you broke at least one bed and he took you on a _picnic_ —”

“I would have rather gone to a cantina and gotten into a fight!”

“But that’s not _romantic_ , how can you _say_ that—”

_That_ definitely isn't going to de-escalate any time soon. With a faint grimace, Fox deftly steps between Obi-Wan and Aayla and Anakin, blocking him from sight. Obi-Wan makes a sound of pure relief, hauling Fox back into the lift by his belt. Quinlan watches them go with amusement, folding his arms over his chest, and then turns back to the two younger Jedi who look about ready to pull each other’s hair. Or, well. Hair and lekku.

If it devolves into an actual fight, Fox is putting his money on Aayla. She looks like she’s far more willing to do murder right now.

“Look,” Quinlan says, and he’s _definitely_ using himself as bait, but Fox isn't about to protest the sacrifice. “Anakin, relationships just end sometimes—”

The lift doors close on Anakin's horrified and disbelieving face, and Obi-Wan groans as it starts to move, slumping back against the wall. “Thank you, Fox,” he says. “I’d hoped to get at least one level up before…that.”

Fox snorts softly, tucking his hands behind his back. It’s easier that way, especially when he wants to reach out and straighten the collar of Obi-Wan’s robe. “Isn't Chancellor Amidala pregnant?” he asks, because he’s noticed the changes to her wardrobe recently. It’s hard not to, when it’s his job to pay attention to that sort of thing.

Obi-Wan goes pale. “Force, I hope not,” he says, more plea than anything.

Fox has to stifle a smile. Obi-Wan _definitely_ knows about Amidala and Anakin, then. “Not a fan of children?” he asks, raising a brow.

“Not a fan of whatever will come from a union between two of the most overdramatic people I know,” Obi-Wan mutters, splaying a hand over his face as the lift comes to a stop. “It’s horrifying—”

“Master Kenobi,” Mace Windu says, stern and straight and entirely unflinching.

“Pardon me, wrong floor,” Obi-Wan says with haste, and hits the button again.

Fox blinks as the doors slide closed, staring at the image of the Master of the Order with clone cadets—clone _children_ , now that the rapid aging has been stopped and the Kaminoans have halted training—hanging off every available inch of him, Neyo looking long-suffering behind him.

“Pity the padawan that gets stuck with babysitting duty,” Obi-Wan says with something like relief, slumping back against the wall. “I did it yesterday. They’re _terrors_. Between Mace and Neyo, they're going to be scarier than any unit in the whole GAR ever could have _dreamed_ of being.”

Fox is still stuck on the image, on the gap-toothed grin one of the kids was wearing. Not dressed like Jedi, but—not dressed like cadets, either. Their own people, he thinks, and has to swallow. That’s…good. Not something he had thought about, but—good.

“The Jedi took in all the younglings?” he asks, maybe a little rough in his throat.

Obi-Wan pauses, watching him for a long moment, and something softens in his expression. “Yes,” he says. “Some of the older ones—the teenagers, I believe—went with Master Plo and Master Ti, to set up a community on Concord Dawn. There are plans for discharged troopers to make their way there over the next few years, but the settlement is still rather rough. Mace was more than happy to take the younglings in the meantime.”

Fox had heard about the Concord Dawn colony. Rys had been talking about spending a few years with the Diplomatic Corps and then heading there, and—well. It’s not the life Fox wants, but he can see why it might appeal. And, while they're still setting up, the clone kids get to grow up loved and cared for in the Temple, without having to worry about training, coming wars, the Kaminoans. That seems like the best of all possible outcomes. “I'm glad,” he says quietly.

Obi-Wan touches his wrist, right at the gap between armor and gauntlet. His fingers are incredibly warm. “It’s the least we can do for you and your brothers,” he says gently. When the lift doors open again, he pulls away, looking out furtively, and smiles. “Well, it seems this level is safe so far. There's a nice view of the Gardens of Meditation at the far end as well.”

Fox hasn’t seen actual greenery beyond potted plants in far too long. “That sounds perfect,” he says with some relief. He likes Coruscant well enough, but—a break from its urban chaos is always appreciated.

Obi-Wan hums, light, and folds his hands into his sleeves as they walk. “Cody quite enjoys it,” he says. “He and Ahsoka have taken to training there most mornings, I believe. Well. Waxer calls it training. Boil says it’s torture, but he’s not fond of early risers in general.”

“Cody's fond of torture in the name of improvement,” Fox says dryly. “So it could be both.”

With a chuckle, Obi-Wan keys the next door open, and ushers Fox out onto a wide, sunlit balcony. A staircase winds down into the treetops, and beyond the first grove Fox can see a green sprawl that must cover most of this level of the Temple. He pauses there, just looking, and—

It’s beautiful. The Jedi Temple is always beautiful, and peaceful, and _warm_ , but this is…particularly so.

Obi-Wan steps up beside him, eyes trained outward as well. “I missed this,” he says, quiet, heartfelt. “During the war. The Temple is home.”

“It’s a good home,” Fox says, maybe a little rough. Wonders, a little, what that must be like, and—wants.

There's a long moment of silence, and then a breath. “It could be yours,” Obi-Wan says softly. Fox stiffens, wondering if Obi-Wan heard that thought, but Obi-Wan is still looking out over the trees. “Cody and Rex have been worried for you, Fox. As have I. You haven’t stopped working in a long while.”

Fox swallows, trying to find words. “There's a lot to do,” he manages after a moment.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agrees, unhesitating. “However, you’ve seen to every trooper under your command already, but not yourself.”

Fox doesn’t answer. Can't, because he has no idea what he wants. Hasn’t since the moment he woke up from Sidious’s control, shaken, head ringing, to find Obi-Wan leaning over him.

_I missed the Sith Lord living right under my nose,_ he wants to say.

Obi-Wan’s fingers curl around his wrist again, light enough that Fox can hardly feel the touch. “Fox,” he says, and when Fox turns to look at him, helpless _not_ to, he smiles. “Ghost Company and Torrent Company are joining the Temple,” he says. “As partners for Jedi going on missions, mostly. But—there's room for someone who wants to oversee security, as well. If you want the post.”

Fox stares at him, hardly able to breathe. It’s not an offer he expected, in any form. Had thought he’d have to bite his tongue and take a police position, crawling around Coruscant’s underbelly. But—he wants it. His old job, or something like it, and brothers around him, and Jedi.

And _this_ Jedi, specifically.

“Yes,” he says, and doesn’t even have to think about it. “Yes, I’ll take the position. Thank you, si—Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan smiles at him, just a little sly. “Perfect,” he says. “I was hoping you would. And you’ll answer only to the Master of the Order, so it leaves me entirely able to do _this_.”

A mouth. A _warm_ mouth, on his, edged with a prickle of beard that makes Fox shiver involuntarily, and the kiss is light and chaste and quick but it’s everything he’s wanted for _months_ now. He grabs Obi-Wan’s arm, pulls him in a step, and Obi-Wan chuckles but leans in to kiss him again.

“Not opposed to this part either, then?” he asks, and Fox curls a hand around the back of his neck, pulls him down, and kisses the smirk right off his lips.

“Not at all,” he says when they part, and then, “No babysitting, right?”

Obi-Wan laughs at him, sliding his fingers into his hair. “Fox, I hate to be the one to tell you this,” he says, warm, amused. “But you just signed up to babysit ten thousand Jedi, all at once.”

“Kriff,” Fox says, and doesn’t mean it in the slightest. “Too soon for a divorce?”

“As long as I can distract you, you're out of luck, Commander,” Obi-Wan tells him, beaming, and kisses him again.

He’s good at distractions. Fox might just have to stick around after all.

Obi-Wan pulls him down onto one of the low benches with him, doesn’t let Fox up to breathe. Kisses him like it’s everything, like it’s a welcome home, and—

Well. Maybe there will be some perks to staying, Fox thinks, and kisses him back.


End file.
